


Celebration

by MemeKonYOI (MemeKonYA)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Barebacking, Bottom Victor Nikiforov, Come Swallowing, Episode 7 Coda, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-01 22:20:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8640379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MemeKonYA/pseuds/MemeKonYOI
Summary: “You seduced everyone out on the rink today,” Victor whispers, lips still brushing against the back of his hand. “Everyone was enthralled. You were amazing. Stunning.”
“And you?” Yuuri asks, not because he holds any kind of doubts about how Victor felt about his short program —he can still feel the searing heat of Victor’s lips on his, like a brand, invisible on him, burning in the best ways, reminding him of how Victor will always meet him where he stands, even if he has to run for it, work for it, grow for it— but because he loves knowing Victor is amazed by his skating, by him, and he’s greedy about the feeling he gets from that knowledge. 
(Or: Yuuri and Victor celebrate after the Cup of China.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'ed.  
> This is absolutely self-indulgent.

“This is a celebration,” Victor whispers against Yuuri’s neck, breath hot on his skin, teeth exerting the faintest pressure against it, teasing. Yuuri shivers.

“Oh?” He leaves a little more room for Victor’s touch, shifting his position, so Victor can fully make himself at home nuzzling his throat and leaving tiny, tingly kisses all along the length of it, biting playfully on the way down, and then soothing the sting with his tongue.

“Mhm,” Victor affirms. He pulls away from Yuuri, and he feels instantly colder, and a little lonely too —almost bereft, as cheesy as that sounds— with nothing of Victor on him other than his eyes. 

The feeling is short-lived, however. Victor looks at him, looks at him with that intense gaze that still makes Yuuri’s heart beat alarmingly faster, still gets him sweating and riled up, like a tightly coiled spring, all energy waiting to be released. And then he’s smiling, smiling that way he does when it’s just the two if them —if not physically, then in intent; that smile that’s sincere and _loving_ and full of enigmatic promises, and _absolutely_ responsible for giving Yuuri the weirdest cases of heartburn he’s ever experienced in his life. And then, he’s drawing one of Yuuri’s hands towards him, kissing the back of it, eyes closing for the slowest second that’s ever been —eyelashes fluttering so prettily, so mesmerizing. 

“You seduced everyone out on the rink today,” Victor whispers, lips still brushing against the back of his hand. “Everyone was enthralled. You were amazing. Stunning.”

“And you?” Yuuri asks, not because he holds any kind of doubts about how Victor felt about his short program —he can still feel the searing heat of Victor’s lips on his, like a brand, invisible on him, burning in the best ways, reminding him of how Victor will always meet him where he stands, even if he has to run for it, work for it, grow for it— but because he _loves_ knowing Victor is amazed by his skating, by _him_ , and he’s greedy about the feeling he gets from that knowledge. 

“And I was _consumed_ ,” Victor _purrs_ , and maybe if it was some other situation —maybe if it were them in Hasetsu, sharing breakfast with everyone around them, Yuuri would blush at Victor’s antics, would maybe find it a little ridiculous, a little too much. But here, in their hotel room, in the intimacy of the warm, dulled bedside lights, Yuuri knows this as truthful, if presented in a playful way. 

“That quadruple flip was for you,” he confesses, needlessly, “I wanted to show you how strong I can be, how strong I can become, how I can surpass all of your expectations. I wanted you to see. I wanted you to not be able to take your eyes off me.”

Victor’s eyes are full of warmth, full of a naked adoration that makes Yuuri burn from within. He climbs over his lap, sitting on Yuuri’s stomach, still holding Yuuri’s hand up to his lips, now curved into a smile. There’s a soft dusting of pink on his cheeks that Yuuri finds endearing and _hot_ , so _hot_ —especially when coupled with his view of Victor’s ridiculous briefs, the fabric stretching over his half-hard cock. 

“I _never_ take my eyes off you, мое солнце,” Victor replies, and shifts his hold on Yuuri’s hand so he can place a tender kiss on his palm, and then on his wrist. 

“Good,” Yuuri says then, and reaches out towards Victor with his free hand, drags him into a kiss, open mouthed, messy, slow. Victor is eager in it, pressing against Yuuri, flattening himself against Yuuri’s body, pressing himself as close as he can as he bites on Yuuri’s lower lip before pressing his tongue inside again, demanding. Victor kisses Yuuri like it’s his God-given right, like he wants nothing else, like he could do this all night long and still want more; like he’d wake up in the morning and still be bright eyed and ready for more. 

Victor hums into the kiss, and makes an undulating motion that should be deemed illegal —or at least come with some sort of warning label for the faint of heart— against him, pressing his hardening cock against his stomach, the muscles beneath tensing for a second as Yuuri gasps at the contact. 

Victor runs a hand down one of Yuuri’s arms, and then makes some space between their bodies so he can fit it there, so he can caress Yuuri’s trembling stomach, and then his pectorals, thumb rubbing purposefully against a nipple, making him shudder.

They break apart, and Yuuri’s already breathing a little harder, open mouthed for some extra intake. Victor smirks at him, licks his lips and flicks his nipple at the same time, making him gasp and buck his hips upwards. He’s not aware of how or when it happened, but he’s fully hard, straining against the fabric of his more modest boxers. 

Victor lets out a soft, fond chuckle at this. He teasingly lifts himself up on his legs, and watches Yuuri try to not put his hands all over his hips, so he can drag him back, get him right where he wants it. Yuuri bites his lips in an attempt to stop himself from sounding as needy as he feels, even if the attempt is futile, because Victor knows _exactly_ how tightly wound he is, exactly how much Yuuri wants, and how much he needs; Victor knows his tells, all of them, the obvious ones and the subtle ones, knows every little detail about how Yuuri does this, and delights in the knowledge, _prides_ himself in it, Yuuri can see it. 

“Do you want something?” Victor asks, a smile in his lips, as he gets one of his hands on himself, lazily palming his own erection over his underwear. 

Yuuri bites his lip _hard_.

Victor’s thumb slides along the elastic of his underwear, a teasing drag that has Yuuri’s eyes riveted on it. “Watch,” Victor tells him, and Yuuri nods dumbly as Victor drags his briefs down, his cock bobbing free, slapping against his stomach, hard, flushed. Yuuri’s breathing hitches, and then stops for a second as Victor gives it a few leisurely tugs. He reaches out, wanting to help Victor jerk off, wanting to feel him coming apart under his touch, but Victor gently bats his hand away. He fists the sheets then, knowing he won’t resist otherwise. “ _Watch,_ ” Victor repeats, getting off the bed to take his briefs off with a little wiggle that shouldn’t be hot, but really, _really_ is —just like a lot of other things Victor does. Once he has carelessly kicked his underwear to the side he gives Yuuri one of those smiles that mean trouble and mischief, and climbs over him again, only lower, half-straddling his shins. 

Yuuri has to lean on his forearms then, just to be able to keep watching Victor. 

Victor makes sure he’s doing it, and strokes one of his legs sweetly as something akin to a reward when he sees he’s following his command. Then he smirks again, and leans down, pressing a cheek against one of Yuuri’s thighs. It’s soft, and warm, and so close, so so close to where he’s hard and already leaking a little because Victor knows how to make him anticipate— 

Victor nuzzles the skin there, and murmurs about Yuuri’s strong legs, about how impressive it is to seem him do jumps and complex step sequences, about how beautiful he looks— he kisses him there then, soft touches of his lips that seem to get to every inch of his skin, coaxing his legs apart so he can plant hot kisses on the inside of his thighs, whispering worship against his skin between every touch.

Victor’s hands are softly massaging wherever his kisses don’t land, applying gentle pressure, and then making Yuuri gasp and strain against Victor’s hold by faintly raking his nails down the outsides of his thighs. This goes on for what feels like an eternity to Yuuri. At some point he hears himself start calling Victor’s name as a plea, his forearms shaking where they are holding him, his chest heaving. He’s so _hard_ , he needs— he needs Victor to do more, to touch him more, to— 

“Please,” he begs, and doesn’t feel an ounce of shame, “please, _please_.”

Victor looks up at him then, and gives him a smug smile that almost immediately softens. He presses a lingering kiss to one of Yuuri’s legs, and then looks up again, and makes sure that Yuuri is watching him as he moves to lick the spot that’s dark and wet on Yuuri’s underwear. Yuuri shudders, gasps, balls his fists. Victor presses a kiss against his hard cock through the fabric, and then starts mouthing at the bulge, rubbing his lips against it and following the lines of it with his tongue, from base to tip, getting the cloth wet and sticky. He sucks the head into his mouth as much as the fabric allows him, and Yuuri has to work at keeping himself upright.

When Victor finally drags Yuuri’s boxers down and licks a stripe down the side of his bare cock— the texture of his tongue, the heat of it, the slippery feeling of Victor’s drool slipping down it— it’s all _too much_. He finally collapses, falling into pillows. He groans, and drags one of his hands up to his face, needing to bite into something— to get his mouth busy on something.

“Good,” Victor says, and Yuuri can hear how pleased he is, how much he’s enjoying this. “You did so good.”

Yuuri gets two fingers past his own lips, just as Victor takes him into his mouth, and he can’t stop himself from bucking his hips, from getting his legs around Victor, securing him between his legs. He drools on his own hand and Victor sucks the head of his cock, getting his cock under it, and then on his slit, digging the slightest bit as he fists the base with one of his hands, and soothingly rubs his hip with the other one. 

He can feel himself getting to the edge a couple of times, but Victor always seems to know, and draws away, bringing him down from the edge— it’s cruel— it’s _amazing_ — it’s— 

“Victor,” he gasps when Victor squeezes him a little too tight, drawing away again.

“моя звезда,” Victor purrs, voice shot to hell, raspy and deep, and having heat pool low down in Yuuri’s gut— “Just a little longer.” Victor stops touching him then, and Yuuri almost _keens_ at that. Only barely avoids it because Victor’s back almost immediately, this time almost seating on his chest, where he can easily look down at the mess Yuuri currently is. He’s got their lube in hand, and he gives him a dirty, _filthy_ smile as he gets his fingers dripping in the stuff.

Yuuri can see it in Victor’s face when he starts fingering himself open, can see it in the way his mouth drops open, in the way he tilts slightly forward, his other hand next to Yuuri’s head to support himself— he can see it in the way he furrows his brows and closes his eyes, in the way he blinks while looking at him— can feel it as he picks a rhythm and starts rocking into it, looking a little huffy about it and trying to hide it, because he never can do it just the way he likes, the way Yuuri does it for him— 

Victor moans as one of Yuuri’s hands joins his, one of his fingers tracing his hole. 

Victor’s cock, flushed almost red, leaking at the tip, is almost face level with him, and Yuuri has to, just has to— 

—Victor trembles all over and makes the sweetest, dirtiest noise when Yuuri urges him forward with his other hand until he can get his mouth all over Victor, all over the taste of him, the feel of him— until he can feel Victor slipping past his lips—

Victor’s hips stutter in their rhythm as Yuuri sloppily sucks him down, drool slipping down the corners of his lips—

“Stop, stop, _stop— Yuuri_ — I’m gonna—” Victor tries to warn him, but Yuuri doesn’t care, wants this, wants _more_ , wants all Victor has to give.

Victor shudders as he comes, curling into himself. Yuuri swallows all of it down, greedy, digging the fingers of one hand into the soft skin of Victor’s ass, and slipping a finger with the unmoving ones Victor still has inside himself, making him tighten around them, shiver, give a tiny sob of overstimulation.

Yuuri lets Victor slip out of his mouth, and looks up at him— he’s still hard and aching, but Victor is the most beautiful view on top of him, looking blown away, pupils dilated as he looks down at Yuuri, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, his face flushed— he looks amazing, and Yuuri has to take a moment to commit this moment to memory.

It seems like another eternity with them looking into each other’s eyes then, expressions as naked as their bodies. 

Victor breaks the spell.

“We’re not done here,” he explains, as he positions himself over Yuuri’s cock and reaches a hand out to hold it up. “You might have more stamina than I do, but I’m not old enough that I’ll be out of commission this fast.” He says, playfully, as he lowers himself on Yuuri, slowly, eyes closed in pleasure as he sinks to the hilt.

Yuuri groans at the sensations, and places both of his hands on Victor’s hips, thumbs caressing the sweaty skin.

Victor rides him slowly at first, teasing and as shallow as the position allows him, until Yuuri has enough of it and bucks up while he pushes Victor down. That has him scrambling for something to hold— Yuuri does it again, and Victor makes a hurt little sound that Yuuri loves, that only _he_ ever gets, that’s only ever for _him_.

Victor’s hard again, so Yuuri starts stroking him at the rhythm of his thrusting. Victor meets every upwards thrust with downwards thrusts of his own, getting them both hot and desperate with how good it feels. 

Yuuri’s almost gone by the time Victor’s coming, and the feeling of Victor tightening around him as he comes all over Yuuri’s hand is all he needs to tip right over the edge, mouth opening in a gasp as he thrusts as deep as he can inside Victor, vision going fuzzy in one of the most intense orgasms of his life.

 

“Hi,” Victor tells him a little while later, smiling and nuzzling along his cheek as he snuggles up to him, “you were gone for a little while there.”

“Oh,” he says, and steals a kiss before adjusting his position so he can put one of his legs between Victor’s. “Sorry.” 

Victor smiles.

“It was very complimentary.”

Yuuri smiles back at Victor, and they spend a few quiet minutes holding each other closely, riding the wave of post-orgasmic bliss.

Yuuri is on the verge of falling asleep when Victor says, soft enough a whisper that it almost goes unnoticed:

“I couldn’t take my eyes off you if I wanted.”

Yuuri falls asleep with a smile on his face, sated and happy, and _stupidly in love_.

**Author's Note:**

> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> [ Come and hang out with me on tumblr!](http://memekon.tumblr.com)


End file.
